


Workshop Mornings

by Righ



Category: Avengers (Comics), Iron Man (Comic), Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Agent Loki, Established Relationship, FrostIron - Freeform, M/M, Morning Sex, PWP, asgardian stamina comes in threes but this is just one, set before loki burns himself up pre-issue 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 02:34:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12202137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Righ/pseuds/Righ
Summary: Just a PWP, an excuse to write lazy morning sex.





	Workshop Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> I may flesh this out into an actual story at some point.

There are so many little details that wake him up: the scent of new oil, scape of metal-working being cut, vague mutters that aren't directed at anyone but float up to the ceiling of the workshop in frustration. Loki yawns and rolls onto his back, the cot sagging with his weight and mismatched blankets tangled around his legs, an arm draping over his eyes as he listens to the putterings of the annoyed genius in the next room.

"Anthony?"

His voice carries in the lofty dungeon that more often than not houses Tony, day to day. In the tail-end of the echo come footsteps with their owner wiping his hands mostly clean of grease, a smudge determined to stand out on a stubbly jaw. Tony waves his way around, cornering for the mini-fridge.

"You know what I'd like? For any of my redesigns to work before noon, just one would be enough. I'm not asking for the world, am I? Correct me if I'm wrong here."

"Good morning to you, too."

Turning away from sucking moodily on a coke bottle, Tony sinks down on the edge of the cot and shares an apologetic kiss with Loki, running his fingers through the nest that once served as Loki's hair.

"Sorry, I've been up for hours. Morning, my most stunning of lazy deities."

"You've got some more lying around, do you?"

"Only Herc, but he wore me out before sunrise -"

Loki's kiss cuts off Tony's smirk and he thinks he might be rubbing off on him more than usual. They have been spending an inordinate amount of time together, lately. If they were normal people surely they would have mentioned each other to their friends by now but, well. Loki appreciates that Tony doesn't want his 'friends' in the Avengers or at SHIELD to come down on them both like a ton of bricks (or a runaway Thing, since that guy is reportedly working for them now). He arches a brow.

"If you ever want to get laid in this bed again ... "

"Herc who?"

"Good boy, Anthony."

Tony shivers at the praise and Loki's smile turns wicked against his lips, nipping the lower. He grins when Tony groans as deft caresses roam under the waistband of his slacks, peeling them down thighs that waste no time in straddling Loki's hips.

They kiss for what feels like hours, sticky-sweet sugar lapped from Tony's tongue and groans rising from Loki whenever Tony returns the touches, pawing down his tshirt. That gets tugged off in short order, impatient clever hands undressing the godling just enough so that Tony can ease Loki's aching morning wood free and stroke him as they go back to kissing with shared huffs of satisfaction, messy and slow-burn in its hunger, whimpers drank down with pride whenever Tony makes Loki squirm (it isn't difficult, but still). It's all the contact that works them up into a needy lather, Loki's hand coated with summoned slick at the murmur of a single, much-used spell, Tony's volume heightening when his body is worked open by a sorcerer's long and best tools, fingers rubbing him from the inside-out.

Loki licks his lips, staring up with green eyes blown beetle-black with desire. Bright work-stations bleed through the doorway but this little makeshift bedroom is dim with the light of a single lamp and Tony, Tony who is beautiful at the worst of times, is bathed in a warm glow that picks out his battle-scars and highlights the animated creases beginning to collect at the corners of his eyes (bright electric blue, Loki always loved that colour). How many years did the Old Loki spend fighting the Avengers? Tony was younger then, only a little more than the twenty-something body grinding up against him, cocks fisted in the engineer's calloused palms so every stroke owns a delicious burn just the right side of rough. 

Loki laughs under his breath when Tony's stutters as he slips his fingers free.

"Brat." Tony quivers over him like Hawkeye's bowstring pulled taut, if Kate would ever suffer such a comparison. He's older physically but he arches against Loki like he can't bear to wait any longer, dragging his stubble along a smooth chest because he knows it drives his particular godling crazy. That one patch of grease on his jaw stains the rosy bud of Loki's nipple. "C'mon, Lokes, please."

"You can't find your satisfaction with your toys, so you come to me?"

"It's not like tha- _ahhh_ ..."

Loki's eyes never once leave Tony's face as he guides him down, glorying in the ecstasy that twists and snarls on pretty, bitten lips, pecking softly at the curses that free-fall as Tony works his tight hole over seven-inches of Asgardian cock, rocking with maddeningly self-indulgent greed. Loki stretches out beneath him, bucking his hips to elicit a startled yelp. His fist curls possessively around Tony's erection where it bobs between their bellies and Tony collapses forward for harder kisses as they begin to move, short thrusts that barely allow for more than grinding as his ass slowly stops acting like a vice.

Loki sighs shakily and Tony whispers nonsense in his ear ( _It's okay, baby, I've got you, oh fuck you feel so good, Lokes_ ) which does nothing to help him slow down, grasping at two taut cheeks to hold Tony exposed to every insistent drag of his dick, right to the root. Tony always whines the loudest when he stops thinking and that becomes Loki's goal, once he has his fill of fucking him loose and needy on his lap, he switches a hand to a hip to brace him and rolls them over (the cot protests loudly, they need a more permanent fixture of furniture if Tony wants to continue getting fucked in and around his workday), the grip of Tony's dirty fingers tight in Loki's hair and mortal nails dragging ineffectually down Loki's ass, hauling him in.

Tony's lashes shutter as his eyes roll up and his mouth hangs open, wails stuttering to the ceiling as he begs, _More, harder, oh, oh, oh, Loki_ , sending a shiver through the god's bones as he obliges. 

Tony screams as he comes, wrapped around Loki so closely that his mess smears between them and all over his well-worked cock. The momentum slows as Loki nibbles his way down Tony's exposed throat, moaning when Tony wiggles his ass after thirty-seconds and somehow (Loki loves him for his determination) manages to rolls his way back on top. Loki's hands grasp at Tony's thighs and their eyes meet as Tony sits up, confident in his afterglow. Magnificent.

He drives down with the single-minded goal of making Loki come, over-sensitive and gasping but urging him on all the same with a voice raw at the edges. The bed will surely break, it squeals as loud as Tony did. Tony's body has spent months getting acquainted with Loki's cock, learning how to dance on it and make him do what he wants faster than Loki would please, as skilled at driving Loki's body as he is in a suit of armour, rutting with an urgency that makes him sound almost dreamy with a demanding streak just as possessive. The way he twists his hips and Loki knows Tony is pleasuring himself with the thick tip of a cock pressing repeatedly over his sweet-spot, making him breathy and mindless of what he says, it's a sight finer than all of Asgard.

"That's it, Lokes, you can do it, just like that, come inside and fill me up like I know you need to, gimme all you got, _that's my starshine_ -"

Tony talks too much.

Loki comes hard with teeth gritted, dragging down the tight ass milking him for all he is worth so that Tony has to (happily) suffer being roughly stuffed with twice as much come as a mortal could provide, pride dripping down Loki's spine in a warm wave as he gathers Tony down to his chest and moves in him, with him, once the spasms are done, loving the noisy whimpers and pleas as he pumps his come as deep as Tony can take it (Tony always loves this part best, it's a mutual favourite). At some point they roll on their sides but Loki doesn't pull out or soften, moaning low into Tony's neck where he buries promises of more. His mortal lover, not to be outdone by something so inconvenient as a god's stamina, hitches his knee higher around Loki's hip and kisses him devotedly.

Tony never finishes a single project before noon.


End file.
